Anyone Can See
by mymistrust
Summary: "Nothing really matters, anyone can see... Nothing really matters to me..." Gene Hunt, minutes after Alex has left him and his world. What does it matter, anyway? (I'll can this angry!fic, because that's what I am!)


**ANYONE CAN SEE**

_An Ashes To Ashes Fanfiction_

By Mistrust

Post S3E08 - Missing Scene - Gene

* * *

_"Nothing really matters,_

_Anyone can see_

_Nothing really matters…_

_Nothing really matters to me…_

_(Anyway the wind blows)"_

**~Bohemian Rhapsody~, Queen**

* * *

It was not a matter of wanting. He knew that now. He finally knew that now. It was never a matter of wanting, if he was to be honest with himself.

As Gene Hunt walked his way back to the station, shivering under the damp night weather, it was finally dawning on him. It did not matter what he wanted, it was bound to end like that, time and over again.

It was almost ironic, really, which made him smirk to himself. A car passed him by, giving the half-lighted street a little more light. But it was fast, and it only made his eyes hurt with the sudden flash.

Everything around him was his. No, it was more than that: it was _him_. His creation, his world… Everything he wanted it to be. Everything it was robbed off him in another world. And however, it was _not_ a matter of wanting. It was, in fact, a matter of necessity.

Everyone.

Ray, Chris, Shaz… Bolly.

They stayed there for as long as they needed him, not the other way around. Sooner or later they would snap out of the trance of this world and go away. They always did. Like Sam Tyler, like many before him, many of which Gene Hunt had almost forgotten for the sake of his own mind, but which now populated his thoughts like ghosts do to an abandoned house.

The streets were abnormally empty, he noticed. Another car flashed by. A hound barked in the distance. God, how he missed his Quattro…

And with this thought, Gene Hunt came to an abrupt halt, turned to his side and kicked a garbage bin. Hard.

_Fuck_.

Not even his car was there.

If he was to be anyone else, he would be crying by now. But as it happens, he was Gene Hunt. And among the things Gene Hunt did not do was crying. His foot was now hurting like hell and his eyes were stinging, but he kept his steady pace, not faltering once. His face was the same harsh façade as usual.

There was no need.

It wasn't as if anyone would notice him… It wasn't as if anyone would care. In fact, it wasn't as if anyone was _there_ anymore. He wanted to punch something, or someone. His fists were clenched close to his sides. If only a burglar would care to appear on his way to the station, he would be satisfied.

But there were no burglars or beggars or random druggies on the streets that night. No, everything was strangely silent.

Empty.

It didn't matter. It never really mattered.

This was supposed to be his escape, capturing from time to time similar unhappy coppers. This was supposed to be under his control… And somewhere along the way he had forgotten. Everything.

He couldn't tell when it happened. Maybe it was faster than he had imagined. It was too easy to forget something horrible and unfair when one had work to do. Work they _loved_ to do, by the way. It was too easy to immerse itself in this world. Deep down, though, Gene Hunt knew the truth. Maybe that was the reason for the way he led his life. A little to carelessly, a little too self-restraining, everything made to hurt him a little too much.

He told her he could do it on his own. That she could go on, have fun at the pub. He looked right into her eyes and told her to go away, with the same grudge-y face of everyday life.

And she believed him.

God, she _believed_ him.

It was the first time in his life that he had wanted her to disagree with him, to be the usual stubborn D.I. she usually was. But instead, she listened to him. Because that was all she needed of him: reassurance to go on. It was not about what he wanted, but what she needed, what all of them needed.

When she walked into that pub and didn't look back, he knew it.

He had his revelation.

Nothing really mattered. And no one would see it.

And as Keats mocked of him, that little demon almost crawling out of his human disguise, Gene Hunt knew that everything he said was true. "All alone, Gene…"

And he was.

When he arrived to the station, everything was in place, and yet, everything was empty. Filling his glass with scotch, the loneliness settled in, and the memories slowly faded away.

When the man came barking into his workplace, demanding his space, talking like he was the boss, Gene Hunt felt his skin shiver. Nobody talked like that on _his_ domain. He stepped out, ready to take action into his hands. Those transfer coppers were always a pain in the ass…

**END**

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**A/N:** I'm just a pissed off fan, nobody loves me. It's my first (and probably last) Ashes to Ashes fanfiction. "Bohemian Rhapdosy" just fits like a glove to Gene Hunt in my humble opinion. It's harsh, sad, ironic, funny and angsty all wrapped up in one little package.

Watching Gene's face after everyone left just broke my heart in a million pieces. It was by far the saddest ending for a TV show ever. I mean, you can get angry and pissed off when the main character dies in the end… But when he's left all alone in the world, with everyone just going away and… Never coming back? Oh, STFU! And that sloppy teenage kiss? Oh, spare me. It was all too much. So in this fanfic I bring out all my bitterness, and I leave Gene Hunt in the gutter… But at the end I took pity on him and wiped off his memory. I think that's something it would happen, eventually. Not forgetting that he ever met Alex, Chris, Ray and Shaz, but about what really happened to them. And maybe, in the long run, he will really forget them… WHICH JUST PISSES ME OFF!

Alright, alright. Oy, why can't he go into the pub as well, hun? Can anyone answer me that?

Thank you for reading this quick, angry-driven fanfiction. Hope you liked it.

Mistrust


End file.
